Kama shrugged. "I might have messed up, I don't know."
Mistress Banchek crumpled the vest in her solid, angry fist. "Kama. This is an apprentice mistake. You're supposed to be the best damn needlewoman in thotcken Anarill, for First's sake! Where's your pride? Where's the skill I used to pay you for?"
"I. . ."
"Quit looking at me like that! I didn't hit you. Although maybe I should. Might do you good. Ever since Lorrine left—"
Her words cut off abruptly and she reached out, lifted Kama's chin. Tears welled in the needlewoman's eyes as they slid away.
"Girl, you have got to get over this! She's been gone over a week, she's not coming back, and you're too bloody young to waste your life mourning over someone culturally unprepared to be anything other than your friend."
"But she kissed me," Kama whispered, and the tears fell again.
Mistress Banchek stepped back, looked at the ruined vest, looked back at the wreck that used to be her best needlewoman.
"Kama. . . Lord Virgil was furious. You know that. And you also know Lady Ellington was furious about the detail work on her wedding gown. I'm going to have to do something, you know that, too. So what are you going to give me?"
Kama wiped her eyes, didn't respond. She saw Lorrine's beautiful dark eyes smiling at her, then turning cold and distant. She felt every detail of the strength in Lorra's wiry arms, first holding her, then shoving her away.
"Well, I'd say that answer's clear enough. Fine. You made your bed, you sleep in it."
Kama felt a tiny hint of interest, but not much.
"I wash my hands of you. Screw you. You seem bent on destroying yourself, fine. Just don't bring my business down with you."
"What?" A sense of panic surged up and clutched at Kama's throat, already tight from too much sustained emotion. "What are you saying?"
"Oh, so now you can talk. I'm saying you need some time away, to say the least. You ever pull yourself out of this pit you've sunk into, come talk to me. But until then, I can't have you ruining commissions for my wealthiest clients."
"But. . . But how will I live? I need this job! Needlework is all I know!"
Mistress Banchek reminded herself that the world could be a harsh place, and coddling pretty young girls never helped them grow up and get over their hurts.
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before letting emotion cloud your judgment. Now snap out of it. Pull yourself together. Come talk to me when you feel like doing your job again."
She tossed the ruined vest on the ground at Kama's feet and left.
The bottom dropped out of Kama's world. Again. What kind of worthless fool was she, to lose her true love, and then throw away her only means of livelihood?
"Stupid," she whispered, then let the tears come as she made her way out of the Knittin' Kitten for the last time.
Adventure
Derfek swept Lorrine away in a whirlwind of excitement. They paused long enough for her to pick up some clothing, and then found her a horse at the livery by the west gate. She paid for it herself, of course, because Derfek said he hadn't been paid yet. And, of course, wouldn't get paid, a difficulty sprung from the reason they were leaving in such a hurry.
"Why is it we're in such a rush again?" Lorrine asked, as she tried to find her seat on the bouncing back of the horse. She'd never learned how to ride, not really. Her family had pretty much ignored every bit of her Dargasi heritage, other than food and booze. Her mother had been violently opposed to even acknowledging her own bloodlines. Every once in a while, Lorrine wondered what in all hells could have happened to upset her mother so horribly and make her cut herself off so completely from her heritage, but she'd gotten whacked every time she'd asked. So she quit asking.
"Got into a disagreement with my employer," Derfek said, tugging at his amulet. "Had to leave before sunset."
"Why sunset?"
"Sunset law. If you're out of town before sunset, they won't come after you. Applies throughout most of the southern coastal towns."
"Why, Derfek," Lorrine laughed, then clutched frantically at the horse with her thighs. She'd almost come off with that bounce. "I do believe you're a bit of a bad boy."
He flashed an insouciant grin at her. "Maybe."
Destitute
Kama sat cross-legged in the sun. She'd kept her legs folded for so long she couldn't feel them anymore. How long had she slumped here, bathed in sun? Hours? Days? When was the last time she'd peed?
None of it mattered. Sitting here in the sunlight mattered, because the sun didn't judge her. Neither did the other street people.
After losing her job, she'd lost her home, as well. But she didn't care. What did it matter, when all she wanted in life had run off with an asshole? And worse yet, what did it matter when she'd discovered what kind of miserable, insufferable person truly lived inside her skin? Couldn't even do her job well enough to get paid. Couldn't keep her home. Couldn't keep herself fed. Not fit to live.
A shadow fell upon her and interrupted the tired circle of self-pity in her head.
"Kama, it's time you get over your sulk."
Kama looked up at the sound of her name, through the misty grey haze that shrouded everything these days. A large woman stood over her, glaring, hands on hips. Mistress Banchek.
"It's been a month now, you little fool. If you don't do something soon, you're going to die, and I simply won't stand for that. Now up."
But what if I want to die?
Her former boss reached down and grasped Kama firmly by the upper arm, dragging her upright. Kama let out a croak of protest as her legs sprang to vivid life, searing pain blasting through them like a lightning strike.
"Steady now, missy. You're coming with me."
The heartless woman didn't give Kama a choice, just set off at what felt like champion racehorse speed, dragging the unsteady Kama along mostly beside her.
By the time they reached their destination, Kama felt more able to walk, although she still staggered badly from lack of food. But how could she eat, with her world ended?
"Here we are," Mistress Banchek announced, stopping in front of a solid, imposing grey building with four austere columns and a staircase. "This is the Academy of Grace. Because I care about you, no matter what you think, I've gone ahead and paid your tuition. All you have to do is go through those doors up there and tell them I sent you."
Kama gazed dully at the double doors. They looked forbidding, like they stayed closed to keep worthless people like her out. "Why?"
Mistress Banchek had sharp ears, for she caught the faint whisper easily enough, and turned on Kama with all the ferocity of a stooping hawk. "Because you're worth it, damn you! You're the best at what you do, you've got a lovely personality, and no woman is worth destroying your life over! Now snap out of this suicidal funk of yours, and go up those stairs, and become the lovely woman you should be. Thank me later, if you survive."
She let go of Kama's arm, turned sharply, and marched off without a single backwards glance.
Kama collapsed, all bony limbs and grimy hair. She fell through a slow spiral inside, as well, deeper and deeper into her own personal pit of despair. But then she caught on something, and her descent jerked to a halt before she smashed to her death on the rocks below. Caring. Mistress Banchek cared. She wanted Kama to live. One person, just one person in this whole wide world, believed Kama was worth something. A cynical voice pointed out that Mistress Banchek only wanted her skills to survive, so she could make more money, but even that cynical observation generated more positive thoughts. It felt strange. She hadn't felt anything but pain and suffering, guilt and self-hatred, in so long she at first couldn't identify the positive emotion that whispered to her so faintly.
Hope.
Hope, struggling to blossom way down deep in the secret places of her heart, fighting against despair. Hope. Maybe there really was some kind of reason out there for her life to go on. Maybe she wasn't really a piece of trash, fit only to be thro
wn into the gutter and trodden on by better and more worthy folk. Maybe she deserved a chance at a new life.
Could a life without Lorrine ever be worthwhile?
Was Mistress Banchek right?
Kama lay there on the cool stone, limbs tangled, a tiny piece of gravel digging into her cheekbone, and considered her options carefully. She could die. She was dying already, she could feel it all through her body, the cold touch of the grave striving to embrace her. Or she could put aside the agony, choose to live, and go on to make something of her life.
Life.
What did life have to offer over death, anyway?
Well, for starters, up until a month ago (A month? What an insignificant length of time in which to destroy herself.), she'd enjoyed a lot of things about life. So what if Lorrine was wound through most of what she liked about life. There wasn't any Lorrine anymore. What good would it do her to die? True, she likely wouldn't care about much of anything anymore, but what if the priests who preached accountability were right? She'd be accountable for wasting her life. She'd never see another beautiful sunrise, hear a bird chirp, feel the wild exhilaration of a strong wind storm. Was she ready to turn her back on all the beauty of the entire world, just because she'd lost a woman she'd never had?
Kama started to move, to shift into a more comfortable position, then felt a distant sense of panic when her body didn't respond.
Oh no! I'm dying right now! But I. . . don't. . . no, I don't want to die.
There. Decision made. Kama would live.
But could she?
Kama worked at it really hard, waking one bit of her body at a time, with a deep inner strength she'd never suspected in herself. Her finger moved, then her whole hand. When she got her arm to move, it was a grandly triumphal moment.
Slowly, one piece after another, Kama commanded her body to move. Weak. So weak! Her body trembled. But she got it going, got herself mostly upright, although she staggered and nearly fell just trying to gain her feet. But she did it. She pushed her way through the fog and the pain, and made it to the steps.
One at a time. Just like movement itself, if she took the staircase one step at a time, it felt almost possible that she might reach the door up at the top of the horrible stairs.
The door ahead concealed magic, and mystery, and her future. Up. Pause, gasp for breath, which felt like sweet nectar in her starved lungs. Up. Pause.
She tipped forward, felt pain. Her knees hurt. She crawled.
That worked better. Four legs are more stable than two, after all, and she made it all the way up the stairs, then dragged herself up by the door handle. She stared at it for a long moment while she panted, wondering if she remembered how to work it, then depressed the thumb catch and pushed.
The magical realm rose up to greet her, as Kama fell across the threshold and landed on her face.
She heard a startled cry, then someone rushed to her aid.
"Mistress Banchek sent me," she whispered, through her painfully dry throat. "Mistress Banchek. . . she paid. . . "
"Hush now, don't try to talk," a concerned voice said. Then a shout. "Hey! Hey, someone, help! Get Liesel out here, now!"
Running footsteps, voices. Female voices. Hands. Kama suddenly felt embarrassed at her filthy state. She helped the hands, managing to stand up.
"Are you Kama?" a powerful voice asked her, rich and deep and resonant with the wisdom of the ages.
"Yes."
"You should have come sooner, much sooner. Liesel will help you now."
Then warm green hands touched her temples, and a soothing presence eased into her soul. Kama would have cried at the gentle, caring touch, if she had any tears left. But they'd all run dry, days ago, and left her an empty husk.
She heard someone call for water, lots of water, then she felt a cup pressed to her lips. It tipped up, and water went into her mouth. She swallowed, and it was wonderful.
The water didn't make it very far down. Her mouth and throat were so dessicated she imagined the life-giving liquid absorbed completely by the time it reached her collarbones. The glowing green hands allowed her only one sip at a time, with a horribly long time between sips, but Kama could feel the life spreading through her.
"You're going to be alright, sweetie," Liesel said, holding her close. "It's been hard, I know, but we'll get you through, okay? Now, can you give me some help here?"
Kama nodded. Her eyes worked better. The grey fog receded a bit, chased back by the water. She could see Liesel now, a small woman with fiercely curly dark hair. "What?"
"I need you to stand. Can you do that for me?"
Kama tried. She didn't want to let that kind, caring voice down. So she moved, and felt the water enter into her joints, providing lubrication and allowing movement. She clambered awkwardly to her feet, leaning heavily on the shorter Healer.
"Good! Now, come with me. Come on, take a step, now, and follow it with another. . . "
Liesel cajoled Kama down the hallway to a room. Kama got a confused impression of a cross between comfort and austerity, then Liesel guided her to a chair, and Kama sat upright, like a real human being worthy of using furniture.
"Sorry to be so much trouble," she said carefully.
"No trouble, none at all," Liesel replied cheerfully. "These ladies are entirely too healthy. I never get to do anything this interesting. Now, you've mistreated yourself awfully, but I think most of what you need is food, drink, and rest. There's not much even the most powerful Healer, which I'm not, can do for dehydration and starvation, except ensure that you don't vomit everything we give you right back up."
Kama quirked her mouth corner upwards. It wasn't a smile, she might not be capable of smiling ever again, but it conveyed a bit of wry emotion. "Good. I hate to vomit."
Liesel chuckled. "I'm sure you do. Now look here, Fasha's brought you a nice cup of broth. Can you drink it without my help?"
"I'll try."
Kama took the offered cup. It smelled divine, and she felt hungry for the first time since Lorra left her. She tried a sip, and her body was startled, because she hadn't given it anything to eat in days. But she felt her guts consider the offering, approve it, then ask for more.
She wondered at the concern of all these strangers. Why were they doing this? What worth did all these women, and there seemed to be dozens, find in her useless self?
Whatever the reason, they swarmed over her. They fed her, and stripped off her filthy dress, and washed weeks of grime off her. They wrapped her in a soft robe, fussing over how thin she was, how prominent her ribs. Someone even started to brush out her hair.
"No," she said, reaching up with the new strength granted by the water and the broth. "No. Don't brush it. Just cut it. I don't want my hair anymore."
They protested, all those female voices that belonged to women that saw her as worthy of care. But she insisted, and in the end, someone fetched scissors and cut her hair right off.
Kama's head felt light, about to float away, and not from weakness this time. They brushed out what remained, evened out the ragged cuts, wondered aloud what color her hair would be when clean.
"Blond," she told them, then suddenly the room swayed sickeningly around her and she clutched at the table, turning panicky, wide eyes on Liesel.
"All righty then, there's the signal." Liesel took Kama's hand, glowing again, and suddenly the motion and its attendant nausea ceased. "Everybody out, she's had enough. Now. No argument. I'll let you at her in the morning."
She shooed everyone out, then helped Kama over to the bed. Kama hadn't slept in a bed in what felt like a lifetime. "Lay down," Liesel commanded, then shed her outer robe and the simple outfit beneath it, leaving only her underwear. "I'm staying right here with you. Otherwise, like I said, you'll start vomiting, and will undo everything we just did for you."
Kama didn't argue, although she really wanted to cry at the thought of sleeping with a woman other than Lorrine. But Lorrine was gone, she accepted that now, and she'd dec
ided to live anyway. So she settled into the bed, and the Healer wrapped her in kindness, and did something inside so Kama fell easily and gently into sleep, for the first time since the night before Lorrine ended her world.
Expedition
They stopped three times that day to have sex. Derfek claimed watching her breasts bounce up and down while they rode made him crazy. So they did it in a grove of trees, and they did it under an old stone bridge, and they even did it right out in the open. That was the best time, strangely enough. Lorrine felt wildly excited by the knowledge that at any time, a traveler might come upon them and see her naked body, with Derfek in his magnificence making her pant and cry out with sheer pleasure. The sun felt good on her skin, and the breeze cooled overheated places, and she decided that sex was pretty much the entire reason to be alive. Never mind the bits of gravel in her backside, and the twigs in her hair. The way Derfek made her feel more than made up for such minor inconveniences.
Not to mention her morals felt perfectly okay with having a proper sexual relationship with a man. Sure, some of the more restrictive cultures would sneer at them for not getting married first, but still, one man and one woman. Proper, natural, good.
"There's a town with an inn ahead," Derfek said. "We should reach it before sunset. And after that, we can hit the big trade road to the west, head for the Dargasi lands."
Lorrine felt instant uneasiness clutch at her. "Dargasi lands? Whyever would you want to go there?"
He shrugged. "Because it's one place I've never been. You're Dargasi, right?"
"Half. But that won't do you much good, you know. I've never met my mother's people."
Derfek growled. "Damn, woman, you disappoint me. Are you saying you can't get me into the desert?"
"I don't really know," she replied cautiously. She didn't want him angry at her. "Maybe. . . I've never talked to any of my relatives. Not on either side. But there's a chance. Possibly. If blood truly matters as much to the Dargasi as people say it does."
Lesbian: A Lesbian Life Worth Repairing Page 2
